Bound
by Darksylvia
Summary: Jareth did not believe in love, does not believe in love, and yet can't understand how things came to such a pass. In looking back over the events, perhaps he can understand how everything crumbled.
1. Jareth's Preface

You know the story. I am the Goblin King. I saw a pretty young girl who, I confess, caught my eye and held it. And as she read about me, building all that I am and my domain into her fairytales, she fell in love with me.

But a fifteen year old cannot know true love. I am not at all convinced that I, many times that age, can know true love either. I will say that I was obsessed, though whether that went hand in hand with love, I can't tell any more than you can. As for her--she was more in love with what she thought I was than what I really am. When I showed her, when I came and tried to grant all of her wishes, she withdrew in horror--at what I was, at what she had done.

The problem became that I did not know how much I desired to give to her her dreams until she refused me. And until then what I had been feeling was mainly curiosity, not longing. With her refusal, however, I came to see that she was not as I had first supposed--which is to say, an entirely selfish creature, beautiful and caught up in her own fantastic world. No, she had two selves and one of them was a good bit stronger and also, sadly, much more realistic.

You see, the very reason that she did not love me, was the same reason that I began to fall in love with her. I was not as she imagined, she was not as I had imagined. We were at an impasse. As I had already committed myself into her scheme, and took it upon myself to give her the gift of her dreams, I could not back out. There are rules to be followed, nearly impossible to break. I tried to explain that to her several times, but she wasn't well enough versed in that sort of thing to listen properly.

"What's said is said," I told her. "I can give you your dreams," I told her. She had already seen through me, however, that her dreams were not what she really wanted--not if they were not how she'd imagined them.

What could I do? I had to take the child. I flatter myself that he would have had quite a nice life with me. Sarah had something of a misconception at that point that it was my practice to turn children into goblins. Really, the goblins are completely capable of producing new goblins without my help. No--I wanted an heir. Being king of goblins grows tedious after a few centuries. I wanted out, and I wanted to leave the Labyrinth in good hands. But it was not to be. 


	2. Watching Sarah

**Chapter 1: Watching Sarah.**

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I used to wing aboveground fairly often. Goblins don't need a lot of looking after--just an occasional check in to make sure they haven't destroyed anything important. Mostly it's the Labyrinth that need maintenance, and that I can do without constantly having to be on patrol. In fact, sometimes it's better if I don't watch it all the time. It changes constantly and if I let it go for a bit, it will create some very worthy challenges, puzzles and traps all on it's own.

Anyway, I was visiting--in owl form, of course--various places aboveground. They're fascinatingly different from the underground. Nothing sparkles for instance, and the dangers are all either so much simpler, or so much more horrific and clever that I can't even contemplate using them.

I've explored a lot of the aboveground over time, but it is the natural places I keep going back too. Especially the places that humans like to visit. And so it was that I was perched dozing in a tree when I heard my name shouted out. I snapped awake and almost lost my footing. Then I focused in on the source.

A generally pretty, slightly intense little girl was running beneath my tree. She seemed to be enacting some sort of drama. I would have watched even had I not heard my name a few seconds past. That just lent her an extra curiosity. So I watched as she cavorted around the trees and the open spaces in the park.

It became apparent that she was performing some sort of tale pertaining to the Labyrinth. This wasn't entirely unfeasible. The Labyrinth has been around for many years--so far back that humans couldn't possibly remember it fully. But they had visited it many times over the years and some had brought back their tales and told them to others. This one sounded to be standard fairy tale stock. In fact, I would guess it was a mix of many different Labyrinth tales that had joined together over the years, for only pieces of it rang true to me.

She, of course, was the impassioned heroine who was downtrodden, had an evil stepmother and an even more evil stepbrother. The book she read out of described me rather well, I was amused to find. I was even more amused when she announced that I had fallen in love with her.

It was the ending, however, that shook me to the core--and assured that I would continue to watch her. The words that she practiced over and over again, her small face solemn with concentration, were more than just pretty dialogue. In fact, it wasn't such good dialogue, and from my standpoint was very vaudeville flamboyant. But what stood behind the words was truth--and power. I knew then that there was more to this than I'd thought. Either some power was hidden in her--which seemed unlikely at the time--or power was in that book. For where could either she or the book have gotten the skill to speak words in such a way to make them true?

Humans, as a rule, don't take much notice of the power of their words. Consequently, over time their words have gotten less powerful, or rather, people have lost the ability to use their words as they should be used. Sarah had, for some reason, gotten some of that back.

So I came to observe her the next day, and the next. I could see that she was dreadfully unhappy, though I had a hard time seeing what about. In my travels, I had seen poor and starving children with more happiness than her--less imagination perhaps, but still more happiness. More of the story came out in her play acting. The roles the characters in the book took on--and even some additional characters were added, I'd bet--illustrated her own life. She cast herself, as I said, as the miss-treated step daughter, her father as unfeeling and caught up in himself (though the latter fault, she never seemed to recognize in herself) and her stepmother as quite as wicked as the best of them.

I had no experience with teenage girls. At first, I believed her tales and thought it a pity that she was trapped in such an untenable position. I thought that if she ever called me, I would come and help her, after all.

Following her every day, however, taught me differently. I eventually came to see that her stepmother was not the ogress that I had been imagining--she was just an ordinary woman, who, I might add, had even less experience dealing with teenagers than I had. And her father, though oblivious, seemed to genuinely care for her. He was simply baffled and didn't know how to gage her emotions.

And the baby--Toby--was in the midst of it all. A sister who had convinced herself she hated him for taking the attention that should have been hers. A mother that was caught up trying to placate the sister and the father both. And a father who stood helpless in the middle. I truly thought Toby would have been better off with me at that point.

I watched her, and I learned about her dreams. When the opportunity came to gift them to her--and perhaps make her grateful enough to fall in love with me--I took it. I played both the Prince and the Villain, and I flatter myself that I did them well. But I have always been a better villain. Prince Charming is a hollow shell of good looks and self sacrificing heroism. I cannot make myself into something that I'm not. And the illusion would only last for as long as I was willing to use it.  



	3. Into the Labyrinth

**Chapter 2: Into the Labyrinth.**

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It all rests in the power of a wish. Humans never seem to catch on that if you want something bad enough, you can certainly get it. What they don't understand is that the proper words can force an outlet for a strong desire. And Sarah, for all her teenaged angst, never lacked for desire--nor will.

I was watching when Sarah wished to know the words--so I gave them to her. She wished that the child be taken--I took him. And then, because she also wished to go, though she did not know it then, I gave her a path to take.

I meant it when I said "What a pity." In fact, I meant every word I ever said to her. But more specifically, I pitied both her and myself for being so suddenly disillusioned. She didn't want real dreams. She wanted to keep them safe and shining in her head, and I didn't see that until too late. I pitied myself, too. For at that point I realized I was further into it than I'd thought.

Up until then, I had just been a casual observer. An unseen force for good that would help this ordinary, creatively little child to realize her dreams. Then when I had presented myself before her, I had seen what she really was, had watched her adult self take over and had known myself to feel more deeply for her than was comfortable. I fought it. I did not want to fall in love with a silly little girl who did not know what she wanted and did not know herself at all. And yet, against my will, I did.

I took the child and my goblins back to my castle to see events play out. I had no intention of giving the child back, although by the rules that governed her wish, I was bound to give him back if she could come and get him from me. What I expected, admittedly, was that she would try to beat the Labyrinth with all the selfish strength a child can muster, to get her brother back. That is to say that when she became thirsty, hungry, tired, she would question why she was doing this and then gratefully accept my generous offer of her dreams.

Of course, she never did question her motives. It was an instinctive quest, I believe. She didn't allow herself to think about it but she simply did it. Not a very deep one, was Sarah. She didn't need to be. She had the worlds inside of her to make up for it.

Hoggle has been a denizen of my Labyrinth for at least five hundred years. He came to me from the under the southern hills where the rest of his family lived. He wanted to become a gardener, not a miner, not a creature foreign to sun light. His weakness and his cowardess are relics from his childhood. He did not grow to be strong by opposing his family. If he could have had the choice he would not have opposed them at all. But he was the way he was and when it grew to be too much, he ran away. That was his strategy for everything--to run away. To his credit, it worked quite well until Sarah came along.

I welcome most creatures to my Labyrinth, unless they wish to destroy it. Hoggle was an oddity among oddities. He was as normal a Labyrinth citizen as any. I truly did not think he had it in him to defy me. In his own eyes he owed me a debt.

He let Sarah into the Labyrinth, as was his duty. Carefully placed words, as you've no doubt surmised, are the key to my Labyrinth (As well as most other places above or below ground). Hoggle was perfectly within the rules of the Labyrinth to tell her whatever she wanted--provided she said it right. That was when his role should have ended. He walked out of the corridors, disgusted with her, and shut her into the Labyrinth.

Then, Sarah's behavior in the endless corridors started to make me think that perhaps I was wrong--that she was nothing more than an average girl, that she was not ready to embrace that adult in her and give away her fantasies. I scolded myself for imagining more than was there. I was filled with a very strange feeling--a combination of disappointment and intense satisfaction, having gained an heir, but lost something that might have been more important.

Impatient for her to give up, I distracted myself. Something stirred in me at seeing her run and run, first with annoyance and then with hysteria. I missed the worm, though I found out about it later. The worm was also following the rules of the Labyrinth. It is a Labyrinth creature born and knows nothing but the rules of the Labyrinth. It wouldn't even know how to break them if it wanted to. And so it helped her in a matter of speaking--but in true Labyrinth form, advised her to turn the less-helpful way. Of course, in it's own mind, the worm did her a great favor. Why should anyone want to come to the castle?

I watched her become cunning, using her lipstick to try and cheat. The Labyrinth, as she found out, has ways of thwarting cheating. Cheating is never against the rules--it just doesn't work. Seeing her frustrated and trapped, I went back to the baby, my future heir and tried not to think about the way her eyes went wide and helpless. That wouldn't work on me, I lied to myself.

I work my magic through two things that I have always been most gifted in--my crystals and music. I began to weave the foundations of the magic that would bind Toby to the Labyrinth and prolong his life. The goblins, perhaps because they are also bred from the Labyrinth, recognize my magic when they see it and revel in it. So I sang to Toby. I made him laugh, I gave him a link to the Labyrinth that in time would grow to an unbreakable tie. And he, in the curious knowledge of babies, knew perfectly well what I was doing. He stopped crying and took notice.

Meanwhile, Sarah solved the easiest of my logic puzzles, one that has been written down countless times to the point where all but the most naive can pass. Aglow with victory, she stepped through. And of course, got caught by the waiting hands.

I always wonder why it was she chose "down" instead of "up". Did she realize that the hole was the way to the castle? Or was it some other thing, a strange intuition, perhaps? I don't know, and I doubt Sarah truly knew herself. When she was dropped down into the Oubliette, I realized I was dealing with a real opponent, and changed my opinion of her again. 


End file.
